Dialogue Between Dancers
by Annamarie Jones
Summary: Mike and Matt are usually stuck in the background, and sometimes their conversations get interesting.
1. Chapter 1

"What song are we even singing? I never know."

"I don't either, Matt. Just mouth 'Watermelon' and dance. It's Schue-proof. He's to preoccupied by Finn to notice us anyways."

"Speaking of dancing, nice shoes."

"Wanna fuck?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"It's a pick-up line. You know, 'Nice shoes, wanna fuck?'"

"Mike, you're an idiot."

"It's part of my charm."

"Sure."

"It is. You're just jealous cause Santana used it on me."

"And you said no."

"You know why I said no."

"I do."

"Um, I think the song's over."

"Oh, shit. How long were we dancing after it stopped?"

"Only a few seconds. I don't think anyone but Kurt noticed. Oh, and Brit. Maybe. I can't tell if she's looking at me or the motivational posters on the wall."

"Oh, she's looking at the dolphin one. She was talking yesterday about how she stares at it when Mr. Schue starts to talk because she never understands what he's talking about."

"Oh, Brittany."

"We should probably listen, I think he's saying something kind of important."

"Oh. Hey, wanna come over after football?"

"Yeah, sure, what do you wanna do?"

"We could practice dance moves…or play video games or something. You know. Whatever."

"Dancing sounds cool."

"Cool."


	2. Chapter 2

"You're late."

"Well, _Mike_, some of us aren't straight A math students."

"Well, _Matt_, maybe some of us should study harder."

"That make-up test was unfair. Mrs. Jones knows that I wasn't here for the unit on transitive properties."

"I still passed it."

"Whatever. What did I miss?"

"Rachel auditioned for the solo, Finn stared at her ass, Kurt stared at Finn, Brittany stared at the wall, Santana stared at Brittany, Artie and Tina stared at each other, and the rest of us pretty much just dozed off."

"Auditioned?"

"Quinn wants it too. She's going next. Or, now. Whatever."

"Oh, she's singing?"

"She's not that quiet."

"Well, you were talking over her."

"No I wasn't, Mr. Schue didn't even notice."

"Does he ever notice?"

"I wonder if he even knows that we're here sometimes."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know my name."

"He _doesn't _know my name. He still calls me, 'Other Asian'."

"We should do a song."

"What?"

"If we did a song and rocked it? All of them would know our names."

"Dude, I just joined for the dancing."

"Please?"

"I really don't think so."

"Mike. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE."

"Let go of my arm. Quinn's still singing and I'm trying to pay attention to…her…emotion or whatever we're doing this week."

"No you're not."

"Matt, I don't want to sing."

"Yes you do!"

"No, I don't."

"For me?"

"…ok."

"Really?"

"Shut up, Schue's gonna hear. But yes. Okay."

"Yes! My house after football. We'll…look up stuff on Youtube and find something."

"Alright. But for the record? This is all your fault."

"Isn't it always?"

"Yes."

(Author's Note: Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews! I'm going to keep going with this, I think. I'm really liking Mike and Matt. Keep reading and reviewing!

OH. I don't own anything. Just, by the way.

Thanks again!)


	3. Chapter 3

(Author's Note: Sorry this took a while, I went on a mission trip and gave food to hobos. Thank you so much for all of the lovely reviews! I appreciate them! Keep reviewing!

I still don't own anything.)

"Matt."

"No."

"I already choreographed it, and we've been practicing all day. We can't change it now."

"Mike, I have my limits. Apparently one of them is tap dancing."

"But it'll be _so_ cool. And Puttin' on the Ritz? It's meant for tap."

"But I can't do it."

"You'll get the hang of it."

"Not by tomorrow, I won't."

"Yes you will! You just need to get a little bit more precise with your steps."

"I'm not Fred Astaire."

"You will be after I'm through with you."

"But-"

"No complaining, you're the one who wanted to do this in the first place."

"But Mike-"

"No."

"Well then, show me what you're doing again. I think I'll be able to stop ramming into you if I know where exactly you're going."

"I actually don't mind you running into me."

"Usually I'd respond with a smooth pick-up line and we'd be on the floor by now, but right now I'm too nervous about the dance."

"Just keep calm. Your nerves are your problem. Relax."

"How can I relax when we're getting up in front of the class to do a number tomorrow and I have no idea how the dance goes?"

"Think about something else while you're dancing. You're thinking too much. Let your muscle memory do the moving and let your mind think about something else. Something that makes you calm."

"Like?"

"I think about that day when we got locked in the bathroom after school."

"And that relaxes you? The janitor almost killed us!"

"Yeah! It was one of the best days ever! And the best toilet paper statue of Mrs. Sylvester that has ever been made, I believe."

"We spent the night in a men's bathroom, and you consider it one of your best days ever."

"Yes. I do."

"Ok, I think I have something."

"Good. Then try the steps while thinking about it."

"Tap is easier than I thought."

"I told you, Matt. My advice may have been weird, but it worked. What were you thinking about?"

"That one time a few days after the night in the bathroom."

"What time?"

"Well, I can show you better than I can tell you."

"I remember that night now."

"I told you I could show you."

"And you did. Now, where's my shirt?"

(Author's Note: Well, that got dirtier than I thought it would end up. Anyhow, review! I live on reviews. If I don't get them I die.

^That last statement was an exaggeration. But I do love reviews, so do it!)


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